Chapter Twenty-Two: The Rewrite.

The snow outside the Ashford estate glowed under the pale morning sun, untouched and silent. But inside the walls of that towering mansion, the world was far from quiet.

Cassandra stood in front of the mirror in her robe, staring at her reflection as if trying to memorize the woman she'd been the night before. Her fingers lightly touched the faint red mark Julian's mouth had left on her collarbone. It wasn't just lust. Something had shifted. Something that couldn't be undone.

A knock came at the door. She turned.

"Come in."

Julian stepped inside, shirt half-buttoned, tie in hand, but his expression was composed. Too composed.

"I didn't think you'd still be here," Cassandra said quietly.

"Where else would I be?" he replied, voice low, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "We said we'd rewrite the rules, didn't we?"

She turned to face him fully, arms crossed. "I just didn't think you meant it."

"I did. And I do."

They sat down at the fireplace, now cold ashes, but the memory of last night still warm in the air. Julian pulled out a thin folder.

"This is the original Beaumont Clause agreement. I pulled the legal copy from my father's archive. I don't know how, but he and your mother set this whole thing up ages ago."

Cassandra flipped through the pages. Legal jargon. Clauses. Signatures. All in black and white. She felt sick.

"I hate how much control they had over us," she muttered.

Julian nodded. "So let's change it. Together."

They took out a fresh sheet of paper. At first, Cassandra laughed. "This feels ridiculous."

"It's symbolic. Come on, Lady Ashford," Julian teased. "We can burn the old contract afterward."

She rolled her eyes, then smiled.

They wrote.

Line by line.

New Agreement: Between Julian Alexander Ashford and Cassandra Evangeline Beaumont

1. No more secrets.

2. Honesty first. Even if it hurts.

3. We face the press together. No hiding.

4. This marriage will not be just a performance.

5. We will find a way to make this real.

When they finished, Julian folded the new contract with a smirk.

"I like it. A little idealistic, but honest."

Cassandra raised a brow. "Idealism is underrated."

They walked to the fireplace, tossed the old document into the hearth, and watched it burn.

But upstairs, a screen flickered.

In a sleek surveillance room tucked away in the west wing of the estate, the camera feed of their room replayed silently. A tall figure in a dark suit watched the footage of their fiery night and this morning's contract rewrite.

He picked up a phone.

"Phase Two begins now," he said.

Back in the living room...

Julian's phone buzzed. He glanced down and frowned.

"What is it?" Cassandra asked.

"There's been a leak," he muttered. "The footage. Someone recorded us."

Cassandra's face drained of color. "What footage? You mean last night?"

Julian nodded slowly.

"Oh God... Julian, if that gets out—"

"We'll handle it," he said firmly. But his jaw was tight. His eyes stormy.

"No," she said, standing. "We handle it together."

And with that, husband and wife, no longer strangers nor enemies, stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the fire, watching the past burn, and preparing for the storm that was coming.